


A Hopeful Development in Mage-Templar Relations

by RedEris



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEris/pseuds/RedEris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But no ordinary man will do for the youngest Amell brother, ah no—the man who holds Ser Carver’s heart (or perhaps simply other organs, less noble if just as proud) is no less a personage than First Enchanter Orsino!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hopeful Development in Mage-Templar Relations

**Author's Note:**

> This abomination was written to grace Page Six of the Kirkwall Gazette.

Many of our readers will of course know that the younger brother of our noble Champion, the broad and chiseled Carver Hawke, has these several years now been a member of the holy Order of the Templars. What Our Correspondent within the Gallows has learned which is NOT common knowledge is that the youngest Messere Hawke has, in that sequestered place, fallen to the charms of an older man! But no ordinary man will do for the youngest Amell brother, ah no—the man who holds Ser Carver’s heart (or perhaps simply other organs, less noble if just as proud) is no less a personage than First Enchanter Orsino!

Several nights past, Our Correspondent, having cause to walk past the First Enchanter’s office after curfew, was struck by sounds of an unexpected commotion in that location. Naturally concerned that something nefarious might be transpiring, Our Brave Correspondent put his eye to the keyhole. And what should greet his astonished eye but Ser Carver and the First Enchanter, locked in impassioned embrace!

Unaware of their audience, both parties continued their embraces, devouring each other’s kisses with wild abandon. Pieces of the good knight’s armor lay scattered about in testament to their eagerness. The First Enchanter was clad only in his night robes, the thin fabric clinging beguilingly to his spare but well-built form. Ser Carver’s mighty hands roamed across the mage’s back and shoulders as they continued locked at the mouth, but Orsino hurried to divest the knight of the remainder of his apparel until at last the drape fell away to reveal Ser Carver’s magnificent Sword of Mercy, straining mightily at the confines of his smalls. Scarcely had this organ been revealed than Orsino fell to his knees to free it from the entrapping fabric and worship it with reverent lips. Fortunately for our Readers, the angle of the men where they stood at the side of the desk allowed for an unimpeded view of these astonishing goings-on.

Our Correspondent feels obligated, at this juncture, to mention his astonishment at the facility and enthusiasm the First Enchanter displayed at this activity. Given the great girth and length of the member in question, Our Correspondent is at a loss to explain how so much of it could be made to fit into the mage’s mouth, and is left to speculate that perhaps a previously unknown magic was at play. Either way, the youthful knight certainly appeared to appreciate Orsino’s efforts, throwing back his head and groaning manfully at the sensation, exposing a beautifully sculpted neck and jaw, tensed in pleasure, as he leaned back against the First Enchanter’s desk.

Several minutes passed thus, punctuated only by deep, throaty sounds of enjoyment and arousal from both parties, until Orsino freed his mouth to say something which, unfortunately, did not reach the ears of Our Correspondent. Upon receiving an enthusiastic nod of affirmation from the good knight, the mage rose and moved briefly out of view.

On Orsino’s return to the desk, the lovers shared another impassioned kiss, fingers entangling in each other’s hair, breath mingling. Our Correspondent’s heart, it must be admitted, skipped a beat at this splendid image of templar and mage, man and elf, youth and wisdom, strength and cunning, brought together and made equal by a shared passion. Next, the First Enchanter placed firm hands on the younger man’s shoulders and turned him quite forcefully about, bending him in the same move over the desk. This action brought the young Ser Carver’s magnificent hindquarters, in all their marble-white glory, into prominence. Our Correspondent was hard-put to repress an exclamation of astonishment as the First Enchanter shed his final garment to free his throbbing member—certainly smaller than Ser Carver’s, Dear Readers, but nonetheless astonishingly disproportionate on his slender elven frame. He lost no time in applying some manner of ointment to this fine organ and applying himself, in turn, to the templar’s nether entrance.

As the First Enchanter’s organ sheathed itself in hot, eager flesh, the young templar moaned and grasped the desk in his pleasure. Soon, the mage was applying himself to the task most commandingly, as Ser Carver writhed beneath him in a madness of ecstasy scarcely to be believed, cries and groans spilling from his lips in a steady stream. Both men climbed together, then, to the heights of pleasure, spiraling higher with each passing moment. Our Correspondent confesses that he found himself greatly affected by the passion thus on display and for some time lost track of his surroundings. At last, at a whispered command from the mage, Ser Carver took himself in hand, pumping in rhythm to the rapid thrustings of the First Enchanter. After a mere few moments of this treatment, the young knight cried out loudly, and shot out against the side of the desk in long spurts. The sight seemed to affect Orsino greatly, for moments later he began to ram his member mercilessly home as the templar continued to cry out and eject truly copious amounts of milky-white seed. At last, with a single loud groan of repletion, the mage stilled and both men fell to silence, save their heavy breathing.

At this juncture, Dear Readers, Our Correspondent recalled himself and opted to make a stealthy exit lest he be discovered. We at the Kirkwall Gazette owe him a debt of gratitude for his dedicated undercover work and promise to inform you of any further developments regarding this delightfully torrid affair.

………………

_Later, at the Hanged Man:_

_“Alright, which one of you FUCKING assholes did this? Which one? I know it was one of you. Isabela? Varric? I swear by the Maker I will start at this end of the table and break legs until someone confesses. It was you, wasn’t it, Varric? You little nug dropping, I see you laughing. I’m going to fucking_ kill _you. They gave me two weeks kitchen duty for this. The_ mages _are laughing at me. Someone put a dildo in my footlocker. This is my_ career _, you raging fuckshits. I didn’t…fucking…oh Maker, Merrill. Merrill please tell me you didn’t read—you fucking read it, didn’t you?”_


End file.
